


Reflection

by Teceraca



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Angst, Gen, solidarity with the rest of SEES, sort of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teceraca/pseuds/Teceraca
Summary: Minako stares into the mirror, and hands curl in, tighter with each passing second that they fail at actually grasping a single thing in this soul search. Every fear and every hope of humanity, of the universe, swirls in her center.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Reflection

Minako stares in the mirror, and she’s not sure what she sees anymore, beyond auburn hair and red eyes and an mp3 player and silver bobby pins, not sure what it means. She tries to smile where a frown is forcing, and opposing pulls balance each other out to **nothing**.

She tries to see a soul through her own windows, but she’s worn masks and hats for so long now, she doesn’t remember what’s underneath except for flashes. A double exposed portrait with amorphous edges, surrounded by **shadows** and _highlights_.

She’s not alone anymore. 

She doesn’t _always_ have to **act**.

She can be herself _and_ what others need. 

But which is real?

She only ever had to worry about _one_ , so she’s not sure if it’s helping or making it harder. 

* * *

_Yukari,  
YES! - I know what it’s like to be alone. We had holes in the place a best friend should be, but no longer. I know what it’s like to grieve and to resent. To avoid everything until the phone rings and you have to face it. Let’s drink ourselves stupid on every girlish pleasure until it happens, and cry on each other once it does. _

_Mitsuru,  
I know what it’s like to feel responsible for the world and every mistake. I won’t tell you it’s not your fault or to slow down. I won’t take away the pride or relief of achieving what you feel you must do. But I will accept an evoker and kneel before you to offer my naginata (and my arms, and my shoulders). I will fight through Hell as you’ve asked, unwavering even when you can’t tell me how or why, because I don’t care what the destination is. I just want to get there with you._

_Junpei,  
I know what it’s like to want to impress. To want to be someone worthwhile. To feel like sometimes you can’t and aren’t, no matter how hard you try. Your jealousy only tells me that I must be pulling my weight for a change, and I’ll use that esteem to stand solid for every blow you want to throw at me. We are children of flames and our anger makes us stronger. _

_Akihiko,  
I know what it’s like to lose. To distract yourself from the pain and say “I’m strong enough to take it, this is fine.” To hide yourself from others, wondering what they would really think of you all the while - **if they’ll stay**. To be scared of intimacy, yet long for it with all your heart. Take my hand and run forward with me. We’ll figure out how to be open again together._

_Fuuka,  
I know what it’s like to tuck yourself away for the sake of others. But you never stop trying to find yourself. You never stop caring. You never become hard. You’re not only a guide but an inspiration. You keep all of us standing; the **least** I can do is help pick you up too._

_Aigis,  
I know what it’s like to question. To not understand. To feel separate and desperate for affection. To know you have a beating heart but not be able to interpret what it tells you. I will hold you whenever you like and tell you you’re not as inhuman as you think. If I ever find an **answer** , I’ll let you know. _

_Koromaru,  
I know what it’s like to live under the roof of a different authority than those who loved and raised you. I know it’s not the same and that it may never quite be home. With you, I never have to pretend to be someone I’m not. In fact, you’d be **insulted** if I tried to claim a title that belongs to only one. Let’s protect each other, my loyal friend._

_Ken,  
I know what it’s like to be left behind. To not be believed. To feel like your past defines you to everyone else. To have something to prove. I don’t know what that is, and I can’t sit here telling you not to give up your childhood for it. That’s already been stolen from you. But I’m here. I’ll listen to you. I won’t judge. We can believe in each other._

_Shinjiro,  
I know what it’s like to regret. To have secrets. To feel undeserving. I don’t know your pain, but I know how seeing others be happy can help ease it. I barely know you, like I barely know myself, and I’m beginning to wonder if there’s much of a difference. I’ll give you my best smiles and my bubbliest voice and show you how much I want to keep you around, just as you are. _

* * *

She has become pieces.

...pieces, pieces… lines in a compendium.

Pieces of people and pieces for people. Bits of herself exchanged in hugs and hands and fights and conversation. Passed on, passed by; given; stolen; slipped out; shaken and stirred and mixed together; herself and her friends of past and present blended like the cocktail they’ll be sharing at Christmas.

She can read the situation like an invitation. Pull from the pool of solution to dress herself up in the emotions and demeanor that suit it best. She slips in and out as easily as shuffling cards, like puppets on _strings_.

Any given reaction to a stimuli: what’s impulsive, what’s logical, what’s appropriate, what’s forgivable, what’s right, what’s unacceptable, what’s silly, what’s strong - someone may plausibly feel any. She feels them _all_ ; she relates to them _all_ , with no way to fathom which train of thought her sense of self has become passenger on. _What’s true_ lost in changing tracks. Inevitably, they speed by and she hops whichever one comes with company at the time. _Jack of all trades and master of none_ \- what kind of identity is that?

Minako stares into the mirror, and hands curl in tighter with each passing second that they fail at actually grasping a single thing in this soul search. Every fear and every hope of humanity, of the universe, swirls in her center. She’s full of _so much_ , she can’t _pin_ it down. Heavy, audible gulps choke back tears as tension builds in wrists, ready to release from arms instead of eyes. Fists raise with the gasping allowance of one sob, then, the flat outer edge of fists _shriek for her_ with a **slam** against the surface before them! Glass _cracks_ to resound in tile acoustics, except where shards are silenced within her skin. 

Pain had not been an intention, but becomes a consequence of reckless decision. Even so, it fits to join the scene; the reality of what she _does_ find when she digs so deep. 

Fractures vector out from the points of trauma, oozing crimson in their seams; as does the sting keep pulsing along nerves into her core from the cuts. Light skews every which way along jagged edges, and there are _several_ versions of her face looking back now. 

Minako is satisfied enough, even as she winces while panting to regain breath. 

As a weakness can become a strength, so can strength feel like weakness at times. 

Dangling, broken, covered in blood - now a true _reflection_ of the switching psyche everyone cherishes her for:

## F R A G M E N T E D.


End file.
